


Temptation

by foxdeer



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, First Meetings, Glorfindel likes power ballads, Growing Old, Legolas is a tease, M/M, Resisting temptation, Teenage Legolas Greenleaf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 23:36:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13728417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxdeer/pseuds/foxdeer
Summary: Glorfindel has just celebrated his 45th birthday, but whilst cleaning up, he spots a beautiful young boy sitting in the tree in the garden next door.





	Temptation

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ
> 
> Quick disclaimer: I understand that for some this topic may come close to uncomfortable, and for this reason I have rated this fic as mature. In this fic, Legolas is 17 though this is not confirmed in the chapter per se. I do not condone sexual relationships where one is underage, or any form of paedophilia. I just wanted to make that clear, but otherwise please enjoy!

“Alexa,” Glorfindel spoke into the silence of his living room. The little blue ring on the cylindrical electronic device lit up. “Play my power ballads playlist.”

“Playing power ballads,” Alexa’s robotic voice replied, jumping straight in with a classic from Whitesnake.

He needed some music to motivate him. It was already midday, and he was still in a grey shirt and some navy plaid pyjama bottoms. His wavy golden hair was messy and unkept from just waking up. There was a distinct pounding in his head – the sure sign of an oncoming hangover – so he rushed to the kitchen to down some water and painkillers to keep the worst of it at bay. The night before had involved a lot of drinking, but he did not regret it. It was nice to see so many of his friends show up.

Even Erestor had let loose last night, Glorfindel thought, smiling to himself. He didn’t think he had ever seen his friend so drunk. It was rare for Erestor to do more than crack a small smile, partake in a few jokes and conversation, perhaps even make a comment about the music. However, last night Erestor had _danced_ and Glorfindel grinned at the memory of his otherwise-uptight friend grinding carelessly on Elrond’s new unofficial boyfriend, Lindir. It had taken all his persuasion to get Erestor to leave Lindir alone, who was thoroughly rosey-cheeked and embrassed by the whole debacle, and it took another level of persuasion to get him into the taxi cab home.

Placing his empty cup in the sink, Glorfindel grabbed a black bin bag, opening it out and entering back into his living room. It was usually kept quite clean – homely, was how Glorfindel would refer to it with his black leather sofas and deep grey fur throws – however following last night’s partying it was far from homely. 

Humming along to Foreigner’s ‘I Wanna Know What Love Is,’ Glorfindel went about cleaning up the empty beer bottles that were scattered around the room. He pushed the numerous balloons out of the way, including the huge ostentatious silver ‘4’ and ‘5’ balloons that the twins had gotten him to remind him that he was another year closer to the mid-century. They were beginning to droop already, and Glorfindel wondered if this was a premonition about his ability to make it to 46.

Smiling at the thought, Glorfindel arranged his birthday cards on the mantelpiece of his iron fireplace. He popped most of the multicoloured balloons but decided perhaps it would be best to pop the silver ones from Elladan and Elrohir in his back garden. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it from his pyjama bottoms, his grin widened further at the message from Erestor:

 **[From: Erestor]** Fin, I am dying.

Glorfindel laughed to himself, picking up the final pieces and walking back into his kitchen. He leant on the counter by the sink, which overlooked his somewhat overgrown back garden. He had been meaning to cut the grass for some time, but the plans for the party had taken over his mind. Yesterday he had noted from his bedroom window that the new next door neighbours had done a fantastic job of showing up his unruly garden. Theirs, he spied, had been manicured to a high standard. They had even put in a few mature trees – God knows when, he thought – he must have missed the commotion whilst he was at work. 

**[To: Erestor]** Oh dear. How much do you remember?

He expected the reply to take some time, but Erestor came back speedily. 

**[From: Erestor]** Little. I can’t look at my phone – the light hurts. Help.

 **[To: Erestor]** Ok, text me when your head hurts less and I will tell you all about how you came on to poor little Lindir. You gave him quite the fright.

Naturally Erestor replied instantly, but Glorfindel decided to leave him sweating about his drunken antics. His phone was blowing up with messages from Erestor asking for immediate details, threatening to turn up at his front door, but given how much alcohol he had consumed the night before, Glorfindel would be surprised if he still wasn’t drunk the next day. 

Chuckling at his friend, a movement outside caused him to look up from his phone. A person was climbing the tree in the garden next door, and Glorfindel could see him above the fence that separated their backyards. He was slender, with sleek, pale blonde hair that floated around his shoulders. By the looks of it the boy must have been late teens, perhaps at the youngest 17. The mysterious teenager had alabaster skin that contrasted with the tight black t-shirt he had on. Shocked by the sudden appearance of one of his new next door neighbours, Glorfindel watched completely enthralled from his kitchen window, as the teen lit a cigarette and puffed out an effortless grey cloud.

He gulped, his throat suddenly dry. Glorfindel was certain he’d not seen anything quite so enticing in a long time. The boy was… beautiful… stunning… and smoking on that cigarette, Glorfindel dared to think that he was even (Lord forgive him for being a dirty old man)… sexy.

“Don’t be stupid,” he scolded himself, picking up the trash bag, grabbing the silver balloons in the other. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Not daring to look in the direction of the boy in the tree, Glorfindel heaved his rubbish outside to his bigger trash can. He probably looked a mess, but that shouldn’t have mattered. The boy in the tree was just that – a boy. Regardless of how attractive he may have been, Glorfindel was far passed any age that the teenager would consider entertaining. In fact, he was quite sure he was old enough to be his father.

Unable to resist, he took a quick glance at the tree to find the boy staring directly at him with piercing blue eyes. Trying to cover his blatant look, Glorfindel cleared his throat slightly:

“Just make sure you put that out properly,” he stated, thinking that he could not have said anything worse. The first time he was meeting the poor boy, and already he was berating him.

To his surprise, the boy laughed lightly. “Yes, sir,” he grinned showing perfectly white teeth. “Nice balloons.”

“Thanks,” Glorfindel replied, “I was about to pop them actually.”

“Worried that they remind you of being 54, old man?” The boy smirked, taking another drag from his cigarette. His eyes were alight with humour.

“I’m 45 actually,” the elder shot back, slightly affronted.

It shouldn’t have mattered, he thought. This was all so ridiculous. Yet, the boy looked at him with obvious teasing, and he dare not think that this teasing meant anything other than friendly banter. In that case he did feel like an old man, exaggerating in his mind just how this boy was communicating with him. The boy raised his eyebrows, smirking again with a look that implied he was plotting something. 

“You look good for 45,” he said, winking cheekily. Glorfindel could hardly believe his eyes. His face was completely blank. The boy laughed again at his reaction. “I hope I look as good in plaid pyjamas at your age.”

“That is highly inappropriate but I suppose I should thank you for the compliment,” Glorfindel replied, popping both balloons in quick succession. He should get back inside so no more was said. The boy knew he was getting flustered. 

The boy stumped out his cigarette on the tree. Glorfindel could feel the weight of his stare whilst he finished clearing up. He went to leave to head back into the safety of his home, where he could lose himself in pointless power ballads and forget all about the minx from next door. However, the boy seemed to call him back.

“I’m Legolas by the way,” the boy called, showing Glorfindel the stub of his cigarette as proof that he’d put it out. “What’s your name, old man?”

Sighing, Glorfindel turned back to the pale-haired boy in the tree. He was now swinging his legs like a cutesy school girl. 

“Glorfindel,” he answered as politely as he could, hoping it wasn’t too obvious that he’d been rattled by the teenager. “And less of the ‘old man.’”

“Ok, sir,” Legolas grinned back, saluting and laughing again. That laugh had drilled itself into Glorfindel‘s head already. “By the way, I don’t think 45 is too old… if you catch my drift…”

His head spinning, Glorfindel had definitely caught Legolas’ drift. How could he not? The boy had made it patently clear with his suggestive words. Saying nothing in reply, Glorfindel went back inside his house, leaving the beautiful boy to his tree and his cigarettes. 

Unable to stop himself, he found himself checking his kitchen window a little too frequently to see if the boy was still sitting there. Scolding himself that no matter how much he may have found Legolas a beautiful creature, he was an adult and Legolas clearly a child – regardless of how close he would be to being of legal age. Glorfindel poured himself a stiff gin, downing it in one large gulp, hoping that the burn of the alcohol would burn away his impure thoughts.


End file.
